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Mort Conley was a member of the same developmental team that included Vivian Blair. The young guy was a guru at creating computer commands, but he lacked the creative imagination to create an innovate product on his own, like Vivian had with My Perfect Match. Still, Wes respected his enthusiasm and had agreed to look at a new app design related to sports fans.
“Should be plenty,” he answered. “And I’ll be back before two.”
Wes started to move away from the secretary’s desk, but she stopped him with another question.
“What did you do to Ms. Blair? She stalked out of your office like she wanted to murder somebody.”
It wasn’t unusual for Adelle to speak her mind with Wes. After all, she’d been his secretary for many years, and over that time they’d grown close. Still, it surprised him that she’d taken that much notice of Vivian Blair.
“I didn’t do anything to her. I simply told her to be prepared for the TV segment in the morning.”
Clearly unconvinced, the woman smirked at him. “Before today I’ve never seen as much as a frown on Vivian’s face. You must have said something mean—or threatened her in some way. What were you thinking? She’s one of the brightest workers on the developmental team! Along with that, she’s a sweet little soul who wouldn’t swat a bee even if it was stinging her.”
Vivian had hardly come off as a sweet little soul this morning when he’d voiced his personal feelings about her computer-generated idea of dating, Wes thought. To Adelle he said, “I wasn’t aware you knew Vivian so well.”
His secretary let out an unladylike snort. “You don’t have to have supper with a person every night to know her. Women have instincts about other women and plenty of other things. You ought to understand that, Mr. Robinson.”
Considering the vast difference in their ages, it seemed ridiculous for Adelle to call him “Mr. Robinson,” a fact he’d pointed out to her many times before. But she insisted that calling him Wes wouldn’t appear professional, so he’d given up trying to change her.
“Ah, yes. Women and their instincts,” he said drily. “They’re always right. I’m sure your late husband never argued with you.”
“Rudy always respected my opinion, God rest his soul. That’s why we celebrated fifty-five years of marriage before he passed on. You need to remember to respect Vivian’s opinion—whether you agree with it or not.”
Wes stared at her. “Have you been pressing your ear against the door of my office?”
“I hardly need to,” she retorted, then turned her attention back to the work on her desk.
As Wes made his way out of the Robinson Tech office building, he mentally shook his head. This morning, he’d heard all he wanted to hear about women and dating and love. Yet as he passed the area where Vivian Blair worked, he found himself wondering if she was still miffed at him. And wondering, too, if she ever went out to lunch with a man, or a romantic dinner in the evening.
While heading down the sidewalk to his favorite bar and grill, Wes very nearly smiled at that last notion. He couldn’t imagine Vivian Blair finding her perfect match in a dimly lit café with violin music playing sweetly in the background and soft candlelight flickering in her hazel eyes. No, she’d be looking for her perfect man in a stuffy computer lab.
* * *
The next morning before she left her apartment, Vivian gave her image one last glance in the mirror. Last night she’d agonized for hours over what to wear for the television segment. When Wes had suggested she not look so studious, her first instinct had been to go out and find a dress that showed plenty of cleavage and lots of leg, a pair of fishnet stockings and platform heels. If he wanted a ditzy bimbo to represent Robinson Tech, then she’d give him one. But in the end, she had too much pride to make such a fool of herself. She didn’t need to show Wes she could be sexy. She needed to prove that a compatible mate was far more important than flaming-hot chemistry.
Stepping back from the cheval mirror, she adjusted the hem of the close-fitting black turtleneck, then smoothed her hands over the hips of the matching black slacks she’d chosen to wear. The garments weren’t frilly or feminine, but their close-fitting cut revealed her slender curves. And her golden hoop earrings were far more daring than the pearl studs she normally wore to work.
Wes Robinson would be unhappy because she didn’t look like a sex kitten, Vivian supposed. But she didn’t care. She was hardly going to change her style or her viewpoint for him.
Some fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in the underground parking garage of Robinson Tech and rode the elevator up to the floor that housed the developmental team, along with Wes’s office.
By the time she neared her work space, George was already there waiting for her to arrive.
Glancing at his watch, he said, “Damn, Vivian, I thought you were going to be late.”
“I had a bad night and slept through the alarm,” she explained. Actually, bad night was an understatement. She’d lain awake for hours, her thoughts vacillating between Wes’s infuriating remarks and concerns about the television interview. When she’d applied her makeup, she’d tried her best to hide the circles of fatigue beneath her eyes. “Do I look okay? I mean, for television?”
He let out a low whistle, and Vivian laughed.
“Thanks, George, for your vote of confidence. I definitely need it this morning. My stomach is fluttering like it’s full of angry bees.”
“I’ll go fetch you a cup of coffee with plenty of cream. That should help.”
“No! Thank you, George. My nerves are already frazzled enough without a dose of caffeine.” To be honest, she was about to jump out of her skin. The notion of being on national television was scary. Especially to someone who’d practically wilted into a faint when she’d been forced to give a salutatorian speech at her high school graduation ceremony. Yet if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit it was the thought of seeing Wes again that was really tying her stomach into knots. Which was ridiculous. She’d worked closely with the man for several years now.
Yes, but she’d never had an argument about love and sex and marriage with him before.
Turning to her desk, Vivian flipped on her computer and locked her handbag in the bottom drawer.
“Hey, Viv, good luck on the TV spot this morning. Are you ready to face the camera?”
Vivian looked around to see Justine, a fellow developer, standing next to George at the entrance of the cubicle. The petite young blonde wearing a short, chic hairdo and a tight pencil skirt was more Wes’s style, Vivian couldn’t help thinking.
“Thanks, Justine. I’m telling myself I’m ready whether I am or not. Actually, I wish you or George would take my place in this interview. I feel like I’m headed toward a firing squad.”
Justine laughed. “George and I aren’t camera-friendly. We’re tech geeks, right, George?”
The burly man chuckled. “Right. But with you representing us, you can show everybody that it’s our team that keeps this company in the black. Without our creations, they wouldn’t have anything to sell. If My Perfect Match becomes a hit, we might actually get the recognition around here that we deserve.”
“And a bonus to go with it,” Justine added on a hopeful note.
“Oh, thanks, you two,” Vivian said drily. “I really needed that added pressure right now.”
George glanced at his watch. “You’d better head on to the boss’s office,” he warned. “You don’t want to be late.”
Already turning to leave, Justine said, “And I’m going to go tune in to Hey, USA. Do us proud, Viv.”
Moments later, as Vivian headed to Wes’s office, the word proud continued to waltz through her head. Yes, she had pride in her work as a developer and pride as a woman who had her own ideas of what made relationships work. This morning when the camera started rolling, she had to make sure she was strong, persuasive and full of conviction, even if Wes believed her ideas were a bunch of crap.
When she reached Adelle’s desk, the secretary waved her onward. “I should warn you, it’s a madhouse in there, Vivian. Don’t let the chaos rattle you.”
“I’ll do my best,” Vivian told her, while thinking it wasn’t the broadcast crew she was concerned about; it was her irritating boss.
Resisting the urge to smooth her hair, Vivian opened the door to Wes’s office and stepped inside. In that instant, she realized Adelle’s warning was correct. The place was a jumbled mess of equipment and people. Behind Wes’s desk, near the vast window overlooking the city, lights and cameras were being set up to garner the best angle. Cables and electrical wirings were being pulled here and there over the polished parquet, while, across the room, a makeup person was trying to brush powder across Wes’s forehead.
“Get that stuff away from me,” he ordered the diminutive blonde chasing after him with a long-handled makeup brush. “I don’t care if my face shines.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Robinson, but the glare of the light—”
Before the harried woman could finish her plea, Wes quickly walked over to Vivian standing uncertainly in the middle of the room.
“Good morning, Ms. Blair. Are you ready for this?” He waved a hand to the commotion of the crew behind them.
She drew in a bracing breath, while trying to ignore the way his blue eyes were making a slow, deliberate search of her face. What was the man thinking? That she needed help from the makeup woman? The idea stung.
“I think so. I’ve been going over all the things I need to say about My Perfect Match. I just hope the interviewer asks the right questions. Do you know what anchorperson will be doing our segment?”
“Ted Reynolds. I rarely watch television, so I’m not that familiar with the guy. Are you?”
Vivian rubbed her sweaty palms down the sides of her hips. “Yes. He’s the darling of the network morning shows and the reason Hey, USA is such a hit.”
“Great. The more star power, the better for us,” Wes remarked, then suddenly wrapped his hand over her shoulder. “Are you okay, Vivian? You’re looking very pale.”
If she resembled a ghost, then the shock of his touch was taking care of the problem. Hot blood was shooting straight from his hand on her shoulder all the way to her face. He’d never touched her before. Not like this. Maybe their fingers had inadvertently brushed from time to time, but he’d never deliberately put his hand on her. Why had he suddenly decided to touch her today of all days?
Don’t be stupid, Vivian. The man is simply steadying you because you look like a wilted noodle ready to fall at his feet. That’s all it means. Nothing more.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I just want this to be over with so I can get back to work.”
She was trying to decide how to disengage her shoulder from his hand without appearing too obvious, when a member of the production crew spoke up.
“Mr. Robinson, it’s nearly time to go on the air. We need you and Ms. Blair to take your seats and let us wire you with earpieces.”
The thin young man with a shaved head, red goatee and skintight black jeans motioned to the two of them, prompting Vivian to ask, “Who is he?”
“A guy who wishes he was in Hollywood instead of Austin,” Wes said drily, then added in a more serious tone, “actually, his name is Antonio. He’s the manager of this affiliate crew.”
With his hand moving to the small of her back, Wes ushered her forward. “Come on. Let’s go put on our act.”
Act? Wes might be planning to put on an act for the camera. But Vivian was going to speak straight from the heart. Whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Three (#ulink_8cca47c2-db66-52d0-a167-1d330807a9c5)
Five minutes later, Wes and Vivian sat side by side in a pair of dark blue wingback chairs and stared at a monitor positioned in front of them, yet out of view of the camera lens.
A few steps to their left, Antonio stood at the ready, his finger pointed at the monitor. “Get ready,” he instructed. “As soon as this commercial ends, Ted will greet you and introduce you to the viewing audience.”
Vivian’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could hardly hear herself think. As much as she wanted to duck behind the chair and hide from the camera, she had to remain at Wes’s side and face the viewing audience.
Her hands laced tightly together upon her lap while her mouth felt as if she’d just eaten a handful of chalk. Just as she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t going to panic, she felt a hand at the side of her face.
Turning slightly, she realized with a sense of shock that the hand belonged to Wes and his fingers were gently tucking her hair behind her ear.
“So everyone can see your face better,” he explained under his breath.
As if Vivian wasn’t already shaken enough, the man had to start touching her like a familiar lover! The idea of being on television must be doing something to him, she thought.
Sucking in a deep breath, she resisted the urge to shake her hair loose so that it would drape against her cheek. “I think—”
Antonio suddenly interrupted her retort. “Here we go,” he warned. “Three, two, one—you’re on!”
Vivian straightened stiffly in her seat and stared dazedly at the television monitor, while inches away, Wes leaned comfortably back and, with an easy smile, gazed at the camera.
What a ham! During the years she’d been at Robinson Tech, she’d not heard of anyone in the company’s developmental team or its vice president being on television. Yet he was behaving as though he did this sort of thing every day.
Just as she was thinking Wes ought to go into the acting profession, Ted Reynolds’s image popped onto the screen. Dressed in a flamboyant, brick-red jacket and a blue patterned tie, he had subtly highlighted hair slicked back from his broad face. Through the earpiece she could hear his voice giving the two of them a routine greeting and introduction.
Once they’d responded to his welcoming words, Ted quickly slipped into the role of interviewer. When he asked Wes to give the audience an overview of the company, her boss smoothly went into a brief summary of what Robinson Tech was all about, and the huge strides it had made in recent years at providing the consumer with affordable, up-to-date technology for use in homes and offices.
While Wes was doing a flawless job at praising the company’s capabilities and progress, Vivian was trying her hardest to remain focused on the words being exchanged between the two men. But she was rapidly losing the battle. Instead of following their conversation, her mind began drifting to the ridiculous. Like the tangy scent of expensive cologne wafting from Wes’s white dress shirt. The way his dark hair lay in mussed waves and the shape of his long fingers resting against his thigh. On his right hand he wore a heavy ring set with onyx, but the left hand was bare. No, she thought wryly. Wes wouldn’t be wearing a ring on his left. Not unless a perfect princess came along and swept him up in a cloud of bliss.
Stop it, Vivian! Get your mind back on track! Otherwise, you’re going to be lost.
The words of warning going off in her head prompted her to give herself a hard mental shake and stare intensely at the monitor. Maybe if she kept her eyes on Ted Reynolds, she’d forget all about Wes’s nearness.
The popular host continued, “In the past few years, Robinson Tech has given us some great products. The tablet for kids—when it first came on the market, my daughter was jumping up and down for it. And by the way, she loves it. Do you believe this new app will be as successful as some of the more popular items your company has produced in the past?”
Vivian looked over at Wes and wondered just how much acting this was going to require from her boss. Successful? She clamped her lips shut to prevent a nervous laugh from bursting out of her. Why didn’t he be honest and tell Ted he thought it was a crock of crap? Just as he’d told her less than twenty-four hours ago?
An engaging grin brought the hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and Vivian had to stifle a groan. He’d certainly never shown this charming side of himself when she was around. In fact, she’d never dreamed he possessed an ounce of playfulness. Moment by moment, she was learning there were many facets of Wes that she’d never seen before. Or was this just all a part of his act? she wondered.
“I have a great amount of confidence in our new app. On the surface it might appear that My Perfect Match is designed for young people, but actually it’s geared for all ages. After all, love has no age limit. Don’t you agree?”
The host chuckled slyly. “I’d better agree, Wes. Otherwise, my wife will have me sleeping in the doghouse tonight.”
Oh, please, Vivian wanted to shout. My Perfect Match was nothing to jest about.
She noticed Wes was chuckling along with Ted as though the two of them were sharing a private joke about the opposite sex. The idea stirred her temper as much as Wes’s nearness was disturbing her senses.
Ted went on, “So you’re telling me that all people interested in finding a mate, no matter their age, can get results using My Perfect Match?”
“I’m absolutely certain of it,” Wes answered without hesitation.
The anchor appeared surprised at Wes’s unwavering response, while Vivian was downright stunned. She’d expected him to give himself a little wiggle room, just in case the app did fail. Was this more of his pretense? If it was, then what else did he go around pretending?
“Wow, that’s quite a statement,” Ted responded. “Especially coming from the vice president of the company.”
“Vice President of Research and Development,” Wes corrected him.
“Uh, okay. Well, can you tell me how this is supposed to work?” A leering grin came over the man’s face. “Say I’m a lonely guy looking for a woman to settle down with. How will the app help me?”
“It’ll save you a big bar tab,” Wes quipped, then softened his response with another charming grin. “Seriously, I think Vivian can better answer that question.”
Vivian felt like a million eyes were suddenly focusing on her face. Her heart kicked into an even faster pace, sending a loud whooshing noise to her ears. She darted a glance at Wes, then froze a wide-eyed gaze on the monitor and Ted’s smirking face.
“Good morning again, Vivian.”
She desperately needed to clear the ball of nerves in her throat, but it was too late, so instead she swallowed. The effort practically strangled her, making her voice sound more like a squeak. “Good morning.”
The show host gave her a wide, plastic smile and Vivian promised herself she’d never again tune in to Hey, USA.
“I hear you are the brains behind this new technical device to find love,” he said. “Would you care to explain to our viewing audience exactly how the app works?”
Shifting slighting on the seat, she resisted the urge to swallow a second time. “Uh—yes, it matches you with the right people. I mean—right person.”
“Could you elaborate a little?” Ted urged.
“Oh, well—it’s the questions. And how you answer and—that sort of thing.”
